Tramp. Them butterflies was gay And foolish, yer might say: But these ’ere beetles—lumme, They do work, anyway! So, ’ere’s to wish ’em luck— Though gatherin’ balls of muck Is jest about as rummy As anythink I’ve struck.
Chrysalis. O universe, prepare! O space, expand! The mightiest of all happenings is at hand.
Tramp. What’s that?
Chrysalis. I’m being born.
Tramp. That’s good—And what are you going to be?
Chrysalis. I don’t know—I don’t know—Something great.
Tramp. Ah ha!
Chrysalis. I’ll do something extraordinary—I’m being born.
Tramp. What you want’s life, my son.
Chrysalis. When half a minute’s gone, Something immense, unbounded, Will happen here.